


Red+White+Blue = Light Purple

by winemomhux



Category: Marvel
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Starbucks, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winemomhux/pseuds/winemomhux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's finally ready to face Steve again and lets Steve find him in Germany, his last stop in his journey for self-identification. Steve's the happiest he's ever been, to have Bucky back, but a little surprise that slips his mind awaits Bucky in Steve's home life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reminder

Blood, heavy and crimson, splashes over the grungy, tainted, imitation marble of the motel's sink. A low sigh, and the rushing of water quickly washes the now light red streak down the drain, quickly followed by the foamy white mixture of shaving cream. He places the razor on the counter. 

"Fuck," a tired hand trembles as it reaches over, under the lip of the counter, feeling for the toilet paper that hangs on an angle from the hook that barely holds on to the side of the cabinet. A small piece is torn, hand still shaking, and is shifted to the other hand. This hand does not shake. He presses the paper to the underside of his jaw and it quickly soaks in the wet, warm blood. He doesn't feel the warmth seep through the paper onto his hand. 

He tosses the blood soaked paper away and runs his trembling hand under the water, bringing it to his face and wiping his face clean, this time he feels the still flowing blood. He sighs again and lifts his chin, glancing in the mirror, blood now trickling down his throat. It's a rather long gash on an otherwise smooth face, he thinks, perhaps, another reminder of exactly what he'd been trying to slather, cut, wash away. He holds a cloth over it to slow the bleeding and continues to dress himself.

It shows, of course, that gash, that reminder. The skin around it is risen and painfully red, and it peaks up slightly from under his jaw line, people are bound to notice. That is, if they don't notice the weight of seventy years hanging from his left side. 

Bucky Barnes, or, no, the Winter Soldier, the Winter Soldier had done some bad things in those seventy years, but to him, though he tried, those two things, those two people, would never be mutually exclusive.

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes, a veteran of the second world war, was a soldier and had killed people, Bucky Barnes had been captured and tortured, and Bucky Barnes had been exploited. The Winter Soldier is, or was, a hunting dog, the Winter Soldier kills, or killed, when told to kill and heels, or heeled when told to heel. But there is one thing that Bucky has that the Winter Soldier never had.

That is the good, and the good is Steve Rogers. Everything Bucky Barnes did could be traced to Steve Rogers, and of all the bad that Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier did, his deepest regret is that Steve had had to watch it all from the sidelines. That's why, when the Winter Soldier set out for Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes returned.

For the first time in seventy years Bucky Barnes made a decision for himself, and that decision was to save Steve Rogers. His second decision was to leave Steve Rogers. He'd left to piece together what remained of Bucky Barnes. 

Now comes his third decision, to find Steve Rogers. 

After nearly three years of evading him, of using what the Winter Soldier had learned to survive, of hiding in shadows and alleys and these musty motels that stink of cigarette smoke that he'd now come to appreciate as a luxury, of moving from city to city, country to country, and just laying low, he's ready to once again face his good. He's ashamed of what he's done, both as the Winter Soldier, and post-Winter Soldier. An ex-assassin with a rather signature, rather noticeable metal arm can't exactly act humbly on his own when he needs to get around, instead, he manages. But this is going to be over now, he's going back to Steve. 

Clean-shaven and dressed in a new green sweater and black jeans, not exactly nice clothes but new, clean clothes, he sighs and looks in the mirror. Conscious of the gash on his chin he tries to look away; to the brown, shoulder-length hair that's been cleaned, brushed, and styled for the first time in a while, to the otherwise smooth face that has for so long been covered in uneven, scratchy hair; but still his gaze sets on the irritated skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the crease between his brows. He tucks his hands in his pockets, straightens his back and puts on a sad smile, trying to soften his eyes, to express anything other than sadness or displeasure. 

"Hey, Steve," the voice that comes from his mouth still seems unrecognizable as his, it's quiet, it's scared, and what the hell is 'hey, Steve'? This is the first time he's talking to him since he supposedly died where he's not trying to kill his best friend; not a casual meet up after summer vacation from school. He slouches and rests his forehead on the mirror, figuring it to be better to just leave this to the moment. Glancing to his small bag of possessions he decides he doesn't need them anymore, this is going to be a fresh start. 

Germany. He's in Germany. Of course he finished this journey where it all really began. As he steps outside he knows it'll be no time until Steve shows up, he's been on his tail for these whole 3 years and he'd seen news just yesterday that Captain America was presently in Germany, not by coincidence. Hands stuffed in his pockets he starts down the street. 

As usual he interacts with as little people as possible, though he stops a moment to buy a coffee with the minimal amount of money he has left from his last, what he calls, job. Even in the seconds of conversation, he notices the glances to the out of place gash, a few subconscious hands roaming to their respective jaws.

"Danke," he forces the word from his lips as his eyes lower to his coffee, and he's sure to retract his right hand from his pocket to pick up the steaming paper cup. Stopping to grab a packet of sugar he almost drops the cup as his body tenses with one word. 

"Bucky."

"Steve."


	2. Home - hōm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve promises to bring Bucky "home", a word that Bucky struggles to fully understand.

Bucky had been waiting for this, he'd purposefully allowed it to happen, but now he's finding it hard to turn. He keeps his eyes cast down and he can feel the eyes on them - some set on Steve, the upstanding hero, with admiration; the others on him, uncertain, the now unmasked villain. He shifts his weight and frees the silver hand from his pocket, taking up the coffee in it where it will stay secure. Still, he doesn't turn. 

Steve takes a step forwards, Natasha at his side, Sam somewhere behind with the local law enforcement assuring them that they've got this covered. 

"Bucky," Steve starts again, unsure of what words to use in this situation. All these years alone, all these years chasing his friend, and now he's here and Steve can't think of a word to say to him. Not while his back's still turned. He stops approaching when they're close enough to have a conversation, and he waits for Bucky to respond either verbally or physically before he says anything more. He sees the right shoulder blade slowly relax, and Bucky turns, leading with his left. 

He's tired, of course he's tired, even with the faint attempt at a smile his eyes are dim and appear almost shadowed as they gaze down at the still, black liquid. Bucky's right hand slowly raises to brush over his mouth and the corner of his lip trembles before the words seem to drop like weights from his lips. 

"I told you not to do anything stupid while I was gone," a pause as his eyes glance quickly at Steve then back down to his coffee. He presses his lips together, gauging whether he should, whether he's allowed, to say what comes next. Steve just hears the next to silent, "and you go and get that haircut?" 

It's followed by a quick exhale through the nose, what Steve can only guess was Bucky's attempt at a laugh, and he watches as once again his hand runs over his mouth and chin. His fingers linger as he nervously traces down the raised skin from his minor injury of the morning. Hand still resting on his face he once again sneaks a glance back at Steve, but he's unable to hold eye contact for more than a moment. This time his eyes don't set again on his coffee, they linger to Natasha, the Black Widow, Natalia, he knows all about her, and a second later they're moving over Steve's shoulder to see Sam Wilson, Falcon, enter the shop. He knows about him, too. The coffee shop, that mere minutes ago had been clamouring and buzzing, is now dead silent. 

Steve hears Sam enter and he sees Bucky's eyes fall both on Natasha and Sam before they quickly skip over Steve and settle on the floor. Taking a risk, Steve leans forward and places a hand on his shoulder, the right shoulder that he figures Bucky would prefer, and as he smiles he can't help to get a little tearful. He gives his shoulder a light squeeze, and, despite Bucky's downcast gaze, Steve has his eyes set on his pale lids and thick brown eyelashes. 

"Bucky, these are my friends Natasha and Sam," he takes the time to introduce, not wanting to assume he would remember, though he's not sure if the memory existing would be favourable or not. There's a nod. A gentle push to the shoulder blade and Steve's leaving the cafe with Bucky once again at his side. 

"And they're your friends too. They've helped me all this time to find you, and they want to help you too, Buck. We're going to do everything to help you through this, you don't have to be alone anymore." 

'On our way home' is what Steve keeps saying to Bucky on the plane heading to New York. He's too embarrassed to ask Steve what the word 'home' means the first few times he hears it and cannot quite pinpoint its definition. It swells, in Steve's voice, in his chest. The word 'home', and suddenly it clicks. He doesn't have a home. He hasn't had a home in over half a century. He's had a "клетка" - klʲet∙kə - a cell or cage, even a "комната" - kom∙nət∙ə - a room, but for so long he's been without a "home" - hōm. But Steve says he's taking him there, and he believes him. 

Steve talks for the both of them, he knows this is going to be a process to work at, that is if Bucky even wants to work at it. It'll come in Bucky's time, it might not come at all, and it sure as hell will never be what it was before, but it doesn't matter. As long as Bucky's there, as long as he's safe, as long as he's comfortable that's all that matters. 

They arrive in New York not much past six in the afternoon. Sam had slept the whole way and Natasha had taken advantage of this to change the settings on Sam's computer to Russian. Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, had spent the whole time sitting across from each other, Bucky's eyes only having landed on Steve's separate features and the sky outside of the window. If he were asked for a description of both, he could hardly tell you if it were clear skies or cloudy. 

Bucky wonders now, as they step out onto the street, surrounded by lights and noise and buildings, is this "home"? Is the hard, cold ground under his feet "home"? Is the air that he now breathes "home"? Or is one of these specific buildings "home"? 

"Not quiet home yet." 

Guess not. 

"We're going to make a stop at Stark's," Steve adds as they pile into a car of which Sam takes the driver's seat, Natasha the passenger (after jokingly calling shotgun), and Steve and Bucky in the back. Bucky pauses, shoulders rise and tense, mouth becomes dry and the breath that escapes him brings him back to reality. Tony Stark. 

The building they walk into is one of the strangest Bucky had ever seen, but it seems to leave a bitterness inside him that he isn't sure stems from anxiety, or fear, or anger, but he's certain it's not bewilderment, he's seen technology of these likes before. His left shoulder rolls as if to crack, and the light sounds of metal migrating and clicking into place follows. 

"Welcome back, Captain Rogers, Masters Wilson, and Romanova," JARVIS speaks in his usual calm tone. "And greetings to Sergeant Barnes"

Bucky's body physically stops, but his mind reels. He's been free for three years now, but he finds himself standing arms outstretched, wrists together, in silence at just the use of such an address. Three years and parts of the system are still running. 

He thanks himself for it being this part of the system. 

"Bucky, are you okay?" He hears Steve's voice, but he keeps his head lowered, his eyes on his wrists. It takes no physical strength for Steve to lower Bucky's arms, but he cannot do it on his own, against his own brain's pleads to just lower his arms. He knows they're staring, he registers how their bodies become more rigid. 

In his mind he sees their eyes, afraid and unforgiving.

"Bucky will do." Steve informs JARVIS, and there's a moment of understanding as the AI changes its greetings and recognition to "Master Bucky" in place of "Sergeant Barnes". 

He's being led down a hallway, a hand on his back guiding him on his way. He knows this is Steve, and he knows where Steve is going, where Steve is taking him, he wants to go, but his head won't lift. He knows it's Steve. He reminds himself it's Steve. 

Finally, his head lifts and his eyes meet Steve's, they've been waiting for him. This time his eyes don't dart away. It's Steve. He forgets his feet are still moving until Steve stops and helps him to the couch in the sitting area Bucky is just noticing they're in. Unlike the hallways, the lobby, the business, the large windows overlooking the city, the large, soft couches, and the bar feel much less familiar. Home. This isn't home, but it's the closest thing he's felt to the sensation of the word. Steve raises a hand, but Bucky shakes his head and sits himself down, sinking further into the cushion than he thought possible, uncertainly placing his arm on the armrest. 

"Yeah, I did that the first time, too." Steve smiles but doesn't sit down. 

"Wait here, breathe, just relax, okay? I've got to go take care of some stuff then we'll go home. Do you want Sam to keep you company?" 

There's that word again, home. Every time it's spoken it's followed by a couple blinks. After a moment's hesitation Bucky shakes his head. He mouths 'no, thank you' and Steve's face lights up before he mouths back an "okay". Steve goes back down the hallway from which they came, followed by Sam and Natasha, and gives a small wave before turning into one of the rooms without a glance back.

In the room, Tony's leaning back in his desk chair facing a few screens displaying a select few of the security cameras, but the main one shows Bucky sitting rather still, looking out the windows. 

"There, now was this really necessary?" Steve says as he sweeps by Tony's chair, nudging the back to make sure he has his attention. He stops on the other side, folding his arms over his chest, his eyes set on the monitor. 

"Well considering last time he saw you he tried to k-"

"That was three years ago." 

"Doesn't make him less capable. It was weird, too easy, after three years and you're just going to pick him up in a coffee shop and take him home?" 

"About that," Natasha starts to add, Steve's eyes suddenly turning to her from the monitor. "I'm not sure bringing him home is such a good idea."

"Nat, we talked about this before, I can handle him, not that he needs to be handled. He's not him, but he's not dangerous-" 

"Oh he's dangerous, we're all dangerous, we're capable and that makes us dangerous. And I'm not sure if his suppression is something to be proud of, he could be a time bomb," Tony says, spinning around in his chair. Steve's eyes fall once again on the monitor. 

"Where else would he be able to stay? He's been living in horrible places for so long, I said I'd give him a home." 

"He could stay here." 

"He's not staying here, he doesn't like it here, you were watching, you saw him."

"We all did, Steve, that's why I think it'd be better if he didn't go home with you. He can still be triggered, that was a mild one, but who knows if he's had worse experiences these last few years," Natasha says, looking to Sam who's thus far remained quiet, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Steve also glances over to him, but he remains silent, so Steve begins again. 

"There's no evidence of that-"

"Do you think he'd leave behind evidence if he had? Hell, I don't even know if he'd remember it if it happened. Look, even if I had expected him to be like this I wouldn't care if you wanted to take him home and take your chances but with-"

"Oh don't bring her into this. I never said that would be permanent." 

"After this amount of time it kind of has to be, plus you adore her and she adores you-"

"She could stay here if she has to, I could still see her." 

"So you won't subject Bucky to this because 'he doesn't like it here' but you're willing to-"

"Can I just say, as the owner of this establishment, you're assuming I'd take that little devil in," Tony interjects.

"You'd be willing to house Bucky but not her? Besides, she's only like that for you because you react. Bucky's not better but he's changed, he won't hurt her."

"It's on you if he does, Cap," Sam finally joins, unfolding his arms and standing up straighter.

"Do you really want that? It's your decision if you want to risk it- her." 

Everyone turns to Steve, whose eyes on the monitor now seem glazed, unfocused. Bucky can be seen folding his hands in his lap, ripping his gaze from the skyline and moving it to his hands.

"Even like this, especially like this, I trust Bucky Barnes. We'll take it a week at a time, if at any point I think there's even the slightest hint at a problem, we'll come here. All of us. Not just him, not just her, all of us," he says as he starts heading for the door, adding in a hushed voice and he leaves, "if that's okay with Stark."

Bucky sees Steve come back, jacket in hand, eyes cast down, brows furrowed. Bucky raises to his feet to meet Steve, who lifts his head and greets him with a small smile, handing him the jacket. 

"So, are you ready to go home?" 

Home, as Steve would present it, is a very narrow, red brick, three story building with a black roof that, at one point, may have been single room apartments. Not too far from downtown, but something that, in Steve's words "has a nice neighbourhood feeling; like when we were kids". Bucky doesn't remember being a child, and Bucky isn't certain a neighbourhood - nā∙bər∙ho͝od - is anything but a noun meaning a housing district within a city, but Steve suggests otherwise, he suggests it can also be a feeling, and Bucky hopes that with Steve he'll be able to learn this. 

"I'll have to move the car once Clint moves his, or Nat's, car out of the driveway, I guess," Steve says as he pulls up in front of the house, parking on the curb, a slick, metallic red car sitting in the narrow driveway. As they approach the house, walking up the cracked cement stones up the small front lawn and up the wooden steps towards the door, Bucky attempts to look into the bay window. The lights are on, but the light, white curtains block everything of what lies behind these walls from Bucky's sight. Steve taps the brass knocker on the black, wooden door three times and Bucky sees a figure, whom he assumes to be Clint Barton, stand up from the floor. The figure lingers a moment before heading towards the door, and Bucky now, also, turns his attentions to the door. Steve isn't looking at him when he says there's a bit of a surprise that he's yet to mention, but he assures Bucky it's part of "home", so Bucky believes him. Steve's lips seem dry, his eyes are fixed on a certain height on the door, and his shoulders fall slightly as the door swings open. 

"Papa!" Bucky hears in a loud, screechy voice. All in one motion Steve swoops down and stands back up, a small child in his arms, clinging to his neck, its black hair pulled into two tiny pigtails on either side of its head, wearing a purple onesie. Bucky doesn't even acknowledge Clint standing at the door. 

Steve's smile wavers as the child's face nuzzles into his neck and he turns to Bucky to see the blank eyes fixed on the small person in his arms. As he speaks, a second pair of light blue eyes set themselves on Bucky. 

"Bucky, this is Kate."


	3. Katie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still uncertain about the concept of home, Bucky is now faced with another new concept - Steve's a father to a little girl named Kate.

Chapter 3: Katie 

"That'll be two large pizzas I get to charge to the 'Captain America' tab at any time," Clint says, squeezing by Steve and Bucky in the doorway, Bucky being relieved of the second set of blue eyes. His own eyes don't move. 

"I thought we'd agreed on three?"

"Yeah, but she was just such a blast I cut down my fees," Clint smiles as he makes his way down the steps, waving to the little girl. 

"See you later, princess."

Kate giggles and mimics the waving, her hand flopping loosely on her wrist. Bucky watches as her head once again rests itself where it seems most comfortable, the nook under Steve's jaw, and his hand moves from the door to span over her back. 

"Papa, home," the little girl coos. This is not just Steve's home, this is Kate's home. Now the words flow seamlessly from Bucky's mouth. 

"Is she yours?" 

There's a silence. Kate recognizes the pronoun as hers, and, once again, Bucky feels those blue eyes pressing on him. He avoids them and focuses on the familiar. 

"Biologically? No," he says only once he starts moving into the door, holding it open with his foot for Bucky to follow. As Steve turns his back Kate repositions herself in his arms, her doe eyes peering over his shoulder. After blinking a few times Bucky turns his focus away from them and onto the house, which is just as narrow on the inside as it appears on the outside, but her focus remains the same. 

Directly inside and to the right of the door is a narrow flight of white stairs, accompanied by a pillared railing. He notices, on the wooden floor, to his left, a few pairs of large running shoes, contrasted by the tiny Velcro shoes whose designs, patterns, and pictures are almost unrecognizable underneath the layer of dried mud. The ceilings are high and the lights that hang from them are the only source of light down the hallway that runs the length of the house along beside the stairs. The walls, though scattered with picture frames of all sizes, are all white. Straight down the hallway the propped open door reveals the wooden cabinets and black countertop of the kitchen. On the right only a door that leads under the stairs and a door to a small bathroom, on the left an open doorway to a dining room and a set of French doors to the living room. 

Leading Bucky into the living room Steve pushes the toys strewn about the floor off to the sides with his foot. A toy car, a barbie, a stuffed dog, a plastic dinosaur are all gently pushed against the wall under the bay window's flowing curtains. 

"Up late and birdman made a mess," Steve says with a smile as he tightens his grip on Kate's fragile body and leans over to pull the coffee table from the wall to its proper place between the TV and the leather couch. Bucky stands stationary in the doorway of the room. 

"You wait here, I'm going to go move the car, then it's bed time, okay?" Kate nods in understanding as Steve gently places her on her feet. He stops beside Bucky on his way to the door, placing his hand lightly on Bucky's left shoulder. 

"I'll be right back, sit down, get comfortable, make yourself at home," he says quietly, patting Bucky on the shoulder and heading back into the hallway. 

Unable to avoid it now, Bucky once again observes the little girl as he moves to sit down, but, to his surprise, she's not returning his gaze. Instead, Kate makes her way, on her little feet, over to the window, pulling apart the curtains and climbing into the little nook, watching Steve move the car forwards into the spot which Clint's car had previously occupied. Under his weight, the leather couch gives a small squeak as Bucky sits himself down, this gets Kate's attention. Cautiously, she lowers herself feet first down off of the window sill, and, still full of energy, runs across the room to Bucky, hands resting on his right knee. 

"Hi!" 

"Hello." 

Kate narrows her eyes, pulls herself up onto the couch with her arms, sits beside Bucky with her legs sticking straight out, and tries again, repeating herself in a louder tone. She receives the same response. 

Frustrated, Kate rolls herself onto her knees, holding herself upright with a hand on the back of the couch. Bucky inches away from her slightly when he notices she's intending on crawling into his lap. Her eyes, scanning his face, don't miss the crease between his brows, the eyes following her movements, or his lips press tighter together when she moves towards him. She lowers herself back into a seated position but remains facing him with a smile, knees out, feet together, hands tucked in the space between her body and her feet. He smiles back at her this time and nods once, to which she responds with a dramatic head nod and a grin. 

For the first time now Bucky really takes in the features of her faces. Of course he's noticed the round, crystal eyes framed by her shocking, long, thick black lashes, but now he's noticing how her small nose turns upwards, how her nose and cheeks are covered in light freckles, and how she holds her pointed chin up in a way that forced Bucky to look away and stifle a growing smile. 

"Making friends, Katie?" Steve asks as he comes back in, tossing his keys into a basket on the coffee table. 

"Yeah, Papa! I make a friend!" 

"Made," Bucky whispers and gives an encouraging smile when she turns to him. Her brows knit together, she her vacant eyes seemingly staring through him. 

"I made a friend," Kate finally says, her eyes darting back to Bucky's, her smile only returning when he once again gives her a small nod. She enthusiastic turns to Steve, as do Bucky's eyes, and she crawls over to the end of the couch, standing up and putting her hands on Steve to balance. Habitually, Steve runs his hand over the back of Kate's head, but his eyes lock with Bucky's. 

"I made a friend, Papa, I made a friend!"

"Yes, you did, and you can do things with your new friend tomorrow, but it's time for bed now." 

"Papa," Kate whines as Steve picks her up, tapping her nose with his fingertip, drawing a giggle that she tries to hide under her pouting expression. 

"Say 'night-night' to your new friend Bucky, okay?" 

"It's sleepover?" she asks curiously, looking up at him as she waits for a response. 

"Yeah, sort of, we'll talk about it in the morning," he tells her with a smile, then motions for her to say goodnight. Still somewhat displeased with her bedtime fate she sighs out her 'night-night' and gives a small wave as she's carried out of the room and up the stairs. 

"Night," Bucky's able to softly answer, though she was probably out of earshot by the time he was able to respond. 

While Steve is busy upstairs, changing Kate into her fuzzy purple footie pajamas, tucking her in, and reading her a bedtime story, Bucky pushes himself off of, or out of, the couch in which his body had slowly sunken into under his weight. Curious, he strolls over into the hallway and starts examining the pictures on the otherwise plain, empty walls. 

First, there's a picture of Steve and Natasha and Clint sitting in what Bucky recognizes as a room in Stark tower, aggressively pressing buttons on controllers and half falling off their seats. Next, a picture of who he assumes to be baby Kate, beside another picture of the same baby with a couple people he doesn't recognize - a younger woman with Kate's hair, Kate's nose, and an older man with a slight resemblance Bucky couldn't place. A few more pictures of Steve with various other heroes, smiling, laughing, making his own, new memories. Some in costume, some in casual clothes. There's a picture of Steve with Kate, having a picnic together with a third place set on their little blanket. In this picture Kate looks smaller than she is now, but with the rate of growth at that age Bucky's not sure the picture was taken that long ago. He judges by the light spring jacket that she's wearing, that is obviously purple, that it was taken just a couple months ago. At the very end he sees something familiar, his own face. He begins to walk towards it, but he suddenly hears the door close upstairs and Steve's footsteps echoing down the stairs. Bucky moves back a few paces until he finds himself once again looking at the picnic picture. 

"Everyone says no one bothers with printed pictures anymore because it's all online, but I like a mix of both, and Kate likes to help put new ones up." 

Bucky doesn't respond. 

"I'm sorry about that, by the way, I should have told you. It didn't occur to me at first, we'd had the plan for you to come home since before this was her home too, but if nowhere else I should have told you at Stark's. I should have given you the choice to come here with her if you wanted to."

"She's really not yours?"

"No." 

"She was theirs?" Bucky motions to the picture a few frames over. 

"Yeah." 

"And?"

"And she's here now and that's all that matters." 

"Sorry," Bucky mumbles, seeing Steve's faint reflection in the glass of the picture frame turn towards the photograph Bucky had just mentioned. 

"It's all right, but what do you say we have something to eat? I'm starving and you haven't eaten anything except some crackers on the plane that Nat almost forced down your throat." 

Bucky waits until he sees Steve walk by him in the direction of the kitchen before he turns and follows. He keeps his eyes on the wall until the end, where he can once again see himself, who he's come to recognize as himself, proudly smiling back at him. It's a photograph he's seen before, though he can't remember anything about it that he hasn't read in captions or footnotes. Everything outside of the last 3 years and bits and pieces of the past 70 were footnotes, and a footnote is nothing without its main narrative. The problem is he's not sure what the main narrative is. He continues to follow Steve to the kitchen. 

The kitchen is just as plain as the other rooms, though the black appliances and counter are a nice change to the constant white. Against the wall is a small table, with a chair on either side, and the tabletop is scattered with crayons of all different colours. 

"Sorry, Katie likes to draw while she waits for her food," Steve says as he quickly pushes them into a pile and picks them up to put them in a plastic cup also sitting on the table, stained with rainbow crayon marks. He then motions for Bucky to sit. 

"You want something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Water? A juice box?" 

"Whatever you're having is fine," Bucky says as he pulls out the chair across from the cup of crayons, and Steve pulls a coffee machine out of the cupboard. There's an extended silence, as Steve readies the coffee maker, that isn't broken until the sound of stem and dripping coffee. 

"So, you're okay with this- with Kate? I mean, I know you didn't sign up for this."

"Yeah, it's fine, it's not the worst thing I didn't sign up for." 

Steve looks down. 

"Buck, I'm s-"

"So, when'd you get her?" 

"What?" 

"Kate. How old was she?" 

"I- She was about one and a half when she came to live with me, then we moved here," Steve set a coffee down in front of Bucky, also getting out the milk and sugar. "But you should save those questions for her tomorrow. She's not shy, and she loves to talk, she'll answer anything even if she doesn't quite know the answer. Either you ask her questions or she'll ask you questions. Is frozen pizza okay?" 

"Yeah, it's fine. Must be hard, Captain America's daughter who'll answer anything." 

"Took her some time, but she won't just answer to anyone now. Though I told her if they're in the house she can go ahead, but I can get her to slow down if you ever need it." 

"No, it's- I think it'll be good. I haven't done much talking, and if she makes that easier then I welcome it." 

Maybe this is the feeling of home Steve had been talking about. Eating pizza at night, talking about the little girl asleep in her room upstairs, planning the following days. Maybe it is these good feelings he hadn't felt in so long. But as quickly as they had come to him, they slip away as he reaches for his mug with the left hand, accidentally crushing it, still filled with hot coffee, into pieces. All he can do is stare at the silver metal, now steaming and dripping with liquid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so poorly written and mostly dialogue. I've already started Chapter 4, but I'm swamped with school work right now so it might take a week or two but rest assured that it will come.


	4. Strike Two

Bucky spends the night in the room furthest from the stairway on the second floor, past both Steve and Kate's rooms. The walls of this room are just as empty as their counterparts, and the hallway leading down along the bedroom doors is just as narrow, with another set of stairs continuing upwards. Technically it was the master bedroom, though the queen sized bed covered half the floor space. Steve had told Bucky it was originally meant to be his room, but Kate, whose room sits in the middle, had made it clear that she felt safer with Steve sleeping between her room and the stairs. 

Bucky's not sure why Kate would be frightened, especially while living with Captain America, though he was certain it had some basis in how she came to be doing so. He realizes, now, after the accident last night, why Steve was still so secretive. He's still, what he now remembers being called, unstable. Steve took him in, Steve wants to help him, but Steve also wants to protect Kate, and he's not going to tell all Kate's fears and insecurities to a possible threat, whose heavy burden is still just as capable of its crimes as it was before. 

Making this realization, he also puts together that it would work the other way as well. Kate has no idea who he is, what he's done, what he is. She doesn't know about the dormant volcano that could erupt at any moment, the eruption Bucky spends his night thinking about, the eruption that invades his dreams with both a mix of what he knows to be, thus far, fictional, and things that can very possibly be fact. 

With all this in mind, he's sure to pull that green sweater back on over his head before leaving his room to interact with the little girl he had, for a brief moment, hoped to befriend. What she doesn't know won't hurt her, or, at least, she won't know until it hurts her.

Already he can hear her voice carrying up the stairs. She's singing a song, but he can't make out the words, though the tune is something familiar to him that he can't quite place. As he makes his way back downstairs he can smell the food from the kitchen and Kate's song becomes clearer to him. 

"Baa baa black sheep have you any wool? Yes, sir. Yes, sir, three bags full. One for the master, one for the dame, one for the little boy who lives down the," she pauses and giggles, bursting out with a "drain!"

"That poor boy, is he ever going to get out of the drain?" Steve says with his back turned to her as he's preparing food at the counter. Bucky can see him from down the hall, his body silhouetted by the morning light pouring through the kitchen window, but he doesn't see Kate, sitting on her knees on the chair at the table, until he enters the room. 

"Morning, Buck," Steve says without turning from his work when he hears Bucky enter the room, "pancakes and eggs over easy and you like your bacon crispy if I remember correctly?" 

"Yeah," Bucky answers. In all honesty he has no idea if that's how he prefers his breakfast, but he trusts Steve would know. Steve, who he can now properly see, is wearing a white shirt and blue plaid pyjama pants, his hair a mess a top his head. Kate is still in her purple footie pyjamas, her black hair is also a ruffled mess. 

"Papa, are we eat here?" Kate asks as her eyes flash between Bucky, Steve, and the one chair across the table from her. 

"Nope, we won't all fit, we'll have to eat in the dining room. The food is almost ready, do you want to set the table?" Steve says as he cracks the eggs for Bucky's breakfast.

"Yeah, want to!" Kate squeals, leaving her crayons and paper spread over the small table as she gets up and runs over to the counter, putting her small hands on the cabinets and looking up at Steve, waiting. 

"Hey, Buck, could you get the plates and glasses? They're in the cabinet on my right-"

"Get my monkey one!" 

"Katie, that was rude, say please," Steve says evenly, though Bucky's already grabbing the plates and glasses, sure to grab the plastic plate that, sure enough, looks like a monkey. Kate mumbles a sorry but still manages to startle Bucky when he turns and she's already standing right beside him, her hands up towards the dishes. 

"I help," she says a-matter-of-factly as he gently hands her the plates and he takes the cups from off the top plate. She then waddles her way out of the kitchen towards the dining room, and as Buck goes to follow, Steve hands him the forks and butter knives. 

When Bucky gets to the plain room with a simple, long wooden table and chairs Kate's already placed the plates in a row on one side of the table. She runs over to Bucky, practically pulls the silverware from his hand, and then back to the table. 

"Um, what side?" she asks, looking to Bucky for help, "Papa said."

Bucky can only shrug, he has no idea what the answer is, and he doubts Steve will mind if she doesn't get it right. 

"Quiet," Kate observes, deciding to just place the fork on the left and the knife on the right. She then takes the cups from him and places them in the top right corners, sits herself down on the middle chair in front of her monkey plate, and turns to look at Bucky, who's still standing just inside the doorway, "Do you have cat tongue?" 

"It's 'cat got your tongue?', Katie," Steve's voice comes from behind Bucky who turns to see Steve carrying a plate of scrambled eggs, a plate of bacon, and a bottle of syrup tucked under his arm. Steve smiles to Bucky as he passes and Kate watches him place down the bacon, eggs, and syrup. 

"I'll be right back with the pancakes and orange juice," Steve says to Kate, ruffling her hair, her eyes on the food in front of her, then he turns to Bucky while his fingers still lazily brush through Kate's black hair, "and your eggs" 

When Steve leaves to get the rest of the food Bucky quickly moves forwards, pulling out the chair on Kate's left. 

"So, miss, is this seat taken?" He asks quietly, but follows with a smile.

"No, you sit," she says quickly, smiling and peeling her eyes away from the food. 

"Thank you," he said as he sits down, "by the way, I hope your Papa can cook" 

"I'm getting better," Steve says, walking back into the dining room. He reaches between Kate and Bucky to hand him his separate eggs then takes the empty seat on Kate's other side, putting down the pancakes and the juice that he'd tucked under his arm much like he had with the syrup. 

Bucky puts his eggs on his plate, takes two pancakes and some bacon when Steve offers him the plates, pours himself some juice, and pauses a moment to glance at Steve. There's no food on Steve's plate yet as he's been making Kate's plate, now he's cutting her pancakes into little squares. She's smiling, but this time her light filled eyes aren't on her food like his are, they're not even on his hands that are preparing her food, they're staring up at him.

"I wanna," she says, putting her hands out when he grabs the syrup. He hands it to her, letting her open the lid and hold the bottle, but he puts his hands over hers to help control the syrup flow. Sitting in the room with them, watching them pour the syrup together, Bucky feels a lightness in his chest, his lips press together as a smile begins to form, and he looks down to his food, starting to eat. 

"Papa," Kate starts after a few minutes of silence as the three of them eat, "I can show your friend my room?" 

"That's not a question for me, Princess, that's something to ask Bucky." 

"You want see my room," Kate's already asking. Bucky swallows the mouthful of pancake that he doesn't notice he has been eating surprisingly fast and nods his head. 

"I'd like to see your room, Kati- Kate." 

They eat rather quietly as both the child and the guest are concentrated on their food, devouring it quickly, not missing a bit, though one ends up with a much stickier face. Bucky finishes first and is unable to help from sneaking looks over to her plate every so often, watching as the monkey's face once again becomes visible, piece by piece of food that is lifted to her small mouth until it is eventually cleared completely, excepting the goopy remains of syrup that are smeared inconsistently over the primate's features. Steve finishes his own breakfast just as Kate slides down from her chair and grabs onto Bucky's right arm, but it's his left that reacts to the touch by pressing closer to his body and burying itself deeper into his pocket. 

"Come on-" 

"Wash up first, Katie, I'm going to wash the dishes, then we can show Bucky your room," Steve says and stands up, taking Kate's other hand. Bucky can feel her hand immediately let go of him when Steve's voice is heard, but he doesn't move. Bucky hears Kate sigh, he hears Steve's footsteps exit the room, the wooden floor squealing under his stature, followed by the fainter, quicker pitter-patter. 

Bucky's unsure of how much time passes, but his attention is drawn to his right the moment Kate returns, before she's able to once again place her still damp hand on his sleeve. He shifts in his seat so that her hands find themselves on the edge of the chair's wooden frame, but she leans forwards as if it were her intention from the start. 

"Come see my room now," she says, pushing her weight onto the chair, not that he's able to tell from anything other than her body shifting closer. 

"Steve- your Papa said we'd go together, didn't he," Bucky mumbles, turning back to the doorway but only seeing the picture frame covered wall of the hallway. 

"Yeah, but he come after," Kate exclaims, her voice raising an octave as she runs to the back of the chair, her small hands gripping the vertical rungs, thus resulting in Bucky sliding to the front of his chair to leave some space between her fingers and his side. "Come on, come on, come on!"

Reluctantly he gets to his feet, following her on his own accord, but not moving faster than he has to. She turns the corner to the bottom of the stairs and he looks back to see Steve still at the sink in the kitchen. When he, too, turns the corner he is met with her outstretched arms and a grin. 

"I can't- need help," she says, but the same words echo in Bucky's own mind when faced with this situation. "Come on, help! Help me, help me, help me, help!" 

She's repeating the phrase in a singsong voice, she's smiling, she's almost jumping on her tiptoes, but sweat is wetting his palm, his forehead, his entire body. He can't move, but he feels smooth metal moving in his sweatshirt's pocket against the back of his hand, he closes his eyes. She needs to stop, he has to make her stop. He takes a step back, but she continues to plead, he squeezes his eyes shut tighter, but his eyelids do not offer sanctuary. 

"Bucky?- Help me!- Bucky- Help!- Buck? Bucky, answer me." 

Bucky opens his eyes, his back's pressed against a wall, there's a set of blue eyes in front of him and it's bright, blinding, everything is flushed white. They're familiar eyes. They're Steve's eyes. The two words are still pounding in his skull, but he doesn't recognize the voice. Steve's lips are moving but he can't hear anything else. He looks down, away from Steve's eyes, but they meet another pair of eyes. There's a scream, he blinks, Kate's standing beside Steve, her face is still. The light tones down, Bucky's back is pressed against the main doorway, facing the stairs. He's shaking, and he feels his right hands tightly restraining the left, pushing it to his abdomen. 

"Hey, you okay, Buck?"

"Yeah, sorry, I don't know what happened. I'm okay." 

"Do you want to lie down or something? Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Now. I guess I just got excited about seeing Kate's room," he says, smiling to the little girl, who returns the favour without a thought, allowing him to uncurl his fingers. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, come on, we were just waiting for you, old man," Buck pushes a smirk to his lips and as hard as he tries, Steve can't suppress the need for the corner of his lip to turn upwards. Still, Bucky can't help but wonder if this is how everything good is destined to end up, and he can only hope that the outcome continues to be this positive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry this took so long, I'm not giving up on this one though.


	5. Chapter 5: Humpty Dumpty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Kate begin to learn about each other, but Bucky finds himself expressing more about himself than he had planned.

Steve carries Kate up the stairs, Bucky trailing not far behind them. He can see her looking over Steve's shoulder at him, a small dimple visible on the cheek that isn't pressed against Steve's shoulder. At the top of the stairs Steve sets her down on her feet and she hurries to the door of her room, pushing the door open. 

Bucky is caught off guard when he first enters the room. Three of the walls are painted a lavender purple and the one that sits behind her bed is a darker, royal purple. The wooden framework is covered in silver beads. Her small bed simply looks like a large, circular pile of blankets of all different shades of purple, mixed with pillows and stuffed animals, though a rectangular frame with little fences around it are visible under the overflowing blankets. The bed is encircled by a thin white veil that is pulled open to the sides. The wall across from her bed has three large, vertical, rectangular mirrors that almost span from the ceiling to the floor that are lined by fairy lights and silver tinsel. In the centre of the wall parallel to the door is a window, also lined by lights, with a cushioned window sill that has a pile of books. The room, much like the living room had been the day before, has a floor covered in not only toys, but open colouring books, clothes, two bean bag chairs, and objects Bucky doesn't recognize. 

"My room's pretty!" Kate says, straightening her back and beaming up at Bucky. 

"It's very pretty, Kate."

When he turns around, he realizes the wall around the door is covered in pictures tacked and taped crudely over the wall around the door frame, behind a small table covered in more art supplies, and the closet door. 

"Come," Kate whispers, grabbing a handful of the bottom of Bucky's sweater and bringing him over to the beanbag chair, getting him to sit down, then she picks up a teacup from the floor that is sitting in front of a stuffed bear in a construction uniform. She hands the cup to Bucky, to which he responds with a silent thank you, then grabs another cup from another animal and sits down opposite him, holding her cup in her hands. Steve smiles from the doorway and disappears down the hall. 

"You're Papa's friend?" Kate asks after a moment of silence, following up by taking a "sip" from her cup. Bucky nods and mimics her movement. 

"Yeah, I'm your Papa's friend. I've known him for a long time, but it's also been a long time since I've seen him."

"You're visiting?"

"Yeah, I guess I am." 

"How long?" 

"I don't know," he hasn't thought of how permanent this living situation actual was, "how long do you want me to stay?" 

"A long time!" 

"A long time? How long is a long time for you, Kate?" 

"Two years is a long time!" 

"Two years is a long time, isn't it? Your Papa and I are very old, lots of two years. How old are you?" 

"Three!" she holds up a hand, though visibly two fingers. 

"In a month," Steve says, coming back with a plate of fruit that Kate jumps on the second it's in her reach.

"In a month," Kate repeats as she takes a handful of grapes. 

Steve places the tray down on the floor and scoops Kate up so he can sit down in the beanbag chair with Kate on his lap. 

"Three in a month? That's a big deal"

"Will you come to my party?" 

"I think I will." 

Bucky learns a lot about the little girl sitting in the protection of her father's arms, though they are all superficial things. Her favourite food is pizza, she likes dogs and reading and colouring and her favourite colour is, indeed, purple. She tells him a few stories about the pictures on the wall, some of her and Steve doing things together, some are pictures of animals from magazines and the internet that she gives their own stories. But there's something that's just not leaving Bucky alone, something on the tip of his tongue. 

At the same time Kate learns a bit about Bucky, that his name is James, but she likes "Bucky" better. She learns that he was in the army with her Papa and that he also likes dogs. Kate then proceeds to get up off of Steve's lap and introduce Bucky to all her stuffed animals, dolls, and toys. 

After they finish the fruits, and Kate is still going on and on about her giraffe, George, who likes popsicles and snow, Steve takes the tray and once again leaves the room. Kate sets down the giraffe and takes a moment to take a breath before reaching for another colourful, fuzzy friend. 

"Kate, can I ask you something," Bucky asks quietly while her back is still turned. She looks over her shoulder and sits down, cross-legged in front of him. 

"Yeah!" 

"Well, I was just wondering, about earlier today, when I- I don't know- I didn't upset you, did I?" 

"No, why," Kate says, furrowing her brow, anxiously holding her blond doll which would no doubt have her own name and story. "Papa has friends, lots, some get sad, scared, uncle Tony has. Papa has. I has."

"You have?"

"I have? I have. Papa says. Papa says that, that, that sometimes bad things don't want to go away because we're nice and cuddly and warm and, and they like us but we're at home and we not have to forget, but it's just memory and so we make, we make - uh - we make lots more memories with Papa and princesses and happy dogs! Yeah, lots of dogs!" 

"Your Papa is very smart, did you know that?" 

"Yeah, I know. Papa knows a lot, because he's old. Like you? Do you know a lot too?" Kate sits the stuffed animal in her hand upright on the floor then gets to her feet and walks over to situate herself between Bucky's legs, putting her small hands on his already prickly cheeks and laughs. "You tickle!" 

Bucky says nothing, he keeps his hands tightly stuffed in his pockets. Her hands are warm on his face, even a bit damp, and although he's sitting on a bean bag chair, she's reaching upwards and her blue eyes are just peeping out from under her black bangs. Unlike Steve his back does not curve forward with attention at her touch. Her subtle smile and the dimple barely visible on her left cheek slowly disappear and her hands retract from his face. 

"You know lots! You know lots just like Papa," she exclaims, sitting herself down on his outstretched leg, "tell me a story!" 

She doesn't weigh much, no more than 30 pounds, but his leg shakes slightly, his fingers clench into fists, and his stomach tightens. He opens his mouth to speak but no words spill from his lips. There's a jolt up his spine and his head turns towards the door just in time to see Steve returning, still in his pyjamas. 

"Papa!" She squeals, "Papa, Bucky's going to tell a story!"

"Is he," Steve raises a brow and his eyes fall upon pale cheeks and a pair of wide eyes. "But have you shown him your nest, Katie? And maybe let him learn more about you, remember he doesn't know you just like you don't know him, you need to know each other before you start telling too many stories." 

At just Steve's words Kate's already up and about again. Bucky takes a breath and his fingers uncurl. Kate hoists her body up into her bed and she seemingly sinks so far down Bucky can just see her lifted head above the mountain of purple blankets. 

"This is my nest! It's warm and cozy and safe and, and, and... warm!"

As Kate continues to go on about her bed Steve takes a seat across from Bucky, his warm eyes and the accompanying smile draw the colour back to Bucky's cheeks with even a bit extra. His eyes lower from Steve's, his shoulders drop, then his right hand emerges from his pocket to swiftly brush his hair back through his fingers. Try as he might to keep his eyes downcast he often finds himself looking at the curve of Steve's lip and the light in his eyes, framed by the heavy lashes, that much resemble Kate's despite the lack of genetic relation. Steve lifts his arms, his hands outstretch, and Bucky's eyes fall to the strong hands, which he remembers had been canvases for a certain life. They'd been scarred on the knuckles and some of the fingers had been crooked in a time before they had been so strong. Bucky then extends his hand, wanting to trace the scars he seems to remember with his fingertips so that the physical sensation may match the incomplete connections struggling to form in his brain, where the stories of the now non-existent scars seem to linger on the tip of his tongue. 

It's not until those hands wrap themselves around the tiny, purple clad waist of the little girl, the tips of her jet black hair reaching the destination before Bucky's own fingertips, that he realizes that they were not outstretched for him. The smooth, healed skin is covered with static-filled strands of hair that send a mixed sensation to his brain and his hand slowly drops back to his own lap, the connections remain a strange concoction of the past, the present, and possible dreams. He looks back up and he notices Steve's blue eyes waiting for his. His lips are pressed to the top of Kate's head, his hands are still firmly around her waist, but he cannot mistake the trail Bucky's fingers had made on the back of his hand that is still sending a shiver up his arm. 

"Papa? Bucky? Are you listening? Why quiet?" 

Kate's voice breaks the silence that had been created in Bucky's ears, and the sound of his pulse dies down enough that it's no longer all he hears. It also break their eyes away from each other, and both pairs settle on the little girl whose arms are wrapped around Steve's neck, and whose eyes jump between the two of them. 

"Of course we're listening, Katie," Steve says with a quick exhale that Bucky supposes is a nervous laugh. 

"Your room is very nice," Bucky adds with an encouraging smile, receiving the same result back. 

"Bucky?"

"Yes, Kate?" 

"Again! You did again! Why Kate? Katie! Katie, Bucky!"

"You want him to call you 'Katie'?" Steve's voice answers quickly, Bucky thankful as his tongue suddenly feels as heavy as the hidden burden he bears. 

"Yeah!" 

"Already?" 

Kate nods her head in certainty but it's Steve Bucky is looking at. The crease between Steve's brows becomes more prominent, his jaw clenches, his hands tighten around the little waist and Bucky cannot ignore the blatant acts of protection, protection he's setting up around her from the outside force that sits across from them. He doesn't blame Steve, he wants to protect her as well, the trusting, innocent girl who's asking a machine posing as a man to be less formal with her. 

"You wanted to hear a story," Bucky says quietly, as if hoping to not be heard. Kate spins around to face him and Steve, now uncertain of the situation, pulls Kate to sit back against his chest with his arms around her tiny body. Bucky removes both his hands from his pockets and leans forwards, resting his forearms on his knees and intertwining his fingers and their mirror image. Kate's eyes automatically fall on the metal hand that is now fully visible to her. She watches as the fingers bend and the light glides along the smooth surface, as the fingertips press into the flesh so gently that they too appear soft. Her face is filled with a lack of understanding but he cannot make out an emotion either good or bad, only curiosity and wonder. 

"Once upon a time, before he sat on the wall, Humpty Dumpty went to war. And Humpty Dumpty knew that if he fell, he would crack and break and could never be put back together again, but he didn't care because he wanted to go just like his friends. Now, Kate- Katie, Humpty Dumpty's friends were just like him; if they fell they would break, but they had thicker shells and to everyone, especially Humpty Dumpty, they seemed unbreakable. So Humpty Dumpty found a way to make it so that if he fell he would not break, and he decided he would use that to make sure that no one else, in a world of Humpty Dumptys, would break either. 

"But there was only one unbreakable Humpty Dumpty, and he couldn't do everything, and his friend fell off a wall and he broke, but it wasn't the king's horses and it wasn't the king's men who came to try to put him back together again. Instead, he had his shell put back together so he didn't look broken anymore, but half of him was left at the bottom of the wall. They made that empty shell unbreakable by breaking off anything that they didn't like, and because he was empty and unbreakable he got sent off to war again, but he was just an empty puppet filled with cracks for a long time. 

"The king's horses and the king's men don't come to put you back together again, Katie, if you fall off a wall someone will come along and put you together in a way they want to put you together, but only you can put yourself back together again, and still, you'll always be filled with cracks, chips, holes - and those make sure you'll never be able to forget that you fell, and you'll never be able to remember exactly who you were before that." 

The three of them sit in silence, Kate blinking her eyes a few times as she tries to process what she just heard. Bucky keeps his head down, his eyes on his hands of which only one shakes unsteadily. Kate wiggles her way out of Steve's grip and makes her way back to her pile of toys, she picks up her giraffe. Bucky hears her footsteps, but doesn't look up, he assumes the scared little girl is heading for the door and he doesn't realize how wrong he is until he sees a little hand place itself over both his hands. He can only feel the warmth on one side as the left hand is fittingly void of feeling. 

"You do know a lot like Papa," she says, handing him the stuffed giraffe that he finds himself accepting, "different things, scary things, sad things, don't have to tell, but home is safe." 

Bucky looks at the giraffe in his hands, George as he remembers it being called. He's not sure he can yet agree to Kate's sentiment, but looking into the giraffe's fuzzy eyes he mouths the word "home" to himself. He cannot remember what the word used to mean, and he's still not sure he fully understands what it does mean, and how Kate can so freely express that her safety lies within it, but at this moment in time he is able to understand that perhaps he will be able to build his own definition of the world for himself after all, complete with his own unique feelings, sentiments, and memories. 

When he finally chances looking at Steve again he notices the crooked smile Steve very often gives to Kate that resonates somewhere in Bucky's mind. There's a sudden, inexplicable rush of pride that surges through Bucky's body with the sight of the smile and he's unable to not smile back. Steve's eyes break first, lowering to the floor, veiled by the heavy lashes that cast a slight shadow onto his cheeks, but his lips retain the smile much to Bucky's content.


	6. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally gets the missing piece of the puzzle that connects Steve and Kate.

They spend the day in Kate's room. Both lunch and dinner are eaten on a blanket on the floor that Kate calls an indoor picnic, and she's sure to sit between the two. It's often Kate who drives the conversation, and she actively avoids asking any more questions about the past, or more specifically the arm that occupies her curiosities, at least for the rest of the day. 

After his story Bucky becomes quieter, relying on observation rather than input, but he interacts physically with Kate, holding out the tea cup she'd placed before him if she asks him if he wants more tea, or retrieving things for her that are out of her limited reach. This interaction satisfies Kate, she is more than happy to know that if nothing else he is still listening, but sometimes he answers with a short "yes", "no", or "thank you", which draws an even larger smile from her. 

During their dessert of ice cream and sliced fruits Bucky rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. First his right sleeve, then his left. Kate's eyes slowly travel to her right at his movement, and they set themselves on the seemingly polished metal. She now realizes that this is not a normal prosthetic that she has seen time and time again on some of the people her Papa knows. She watches as he lowers his arm back down to rest on his crossed legs, the plates shifting and clicking into their new places seamlessly. His wrist bends and the plates migrate in a way she cannot comprehend, but again there is not even a moment's delay in their response to his movement. Her eyes move up towards his elbow, where she is unable to see any trace of skin before it is covered with the bunched up green sleeve of the sweatshirt he's wearing. She turns back to her ice cream, slowly bending her own wrist as she picks up ice cream with her spoon, watching the creases in her own skin appear and disappear. 

Bucky keeps his focus on his own bowl of ice cream that is placed in his lap, and every once in a while will gaze across the blanket to Steve's hands, one holding a bowl, the other delicately scraping ice cream off the lump that sits at the bottom of the bowl. When Kate's sights happen upon their target on his left he does not look at her, he doesn't say anything. He is comforted by the fact that she has not yet been scared away by it, but there remains a weight on his chest. The thought that now presses against his consciousness is whether her trust, her comfort, her respect has not been earned, but instead has been constructed around her ignorance of the situation. 

After dessert Kate has a burst of energy. She is all over the room, throwing stuffed toys at her Papa, climbing on furniture that both should and should not be climbed on, and runs laps around her room. Both Steve and Bucky let her imagination run interrupted and they follow as best they can when they are asked to. It's not long before she tires herself out and sits down beside Steve, curls up beside him, rests her head on his side, and starts to close her eyes. 

"I think it's time for this princess to go to bed. Let's go brush your teeth then get you to sleep so we can have fun tomorrow." 

"But Papa! I'm not- I'm not-" she is cut off by a wide yawn that brings water to her eyes that she desperately tries to hide. "I'm not tired! I'm not, I'm not, I'm not!"

"Sleep won't hurt, Katie," Steve says without arguing with her, picking her up. Her body lazily flops forwards and is held up by the shoulder it now rests on. "Say goodnight to Bucky, he and I will probably go to bed soon too." 

"Goodnight, Bucky." 

"Goodnight, Katie." 

Steve carries her out of her room and brings her to the bathroom down the hall to brush her teeth, comb her hair, and wash her face and hands so she is ready for bed. When they return to her room the blanket is folded and sitting in her hamper, the dishes are gone, and all the pillows, animals, and toys are back in their proper places. Bucky is no longer there, and now that Steve is aware he can hear footsteps and other noises from downstairs while he puts Kate to bed, which takes no time tonight with such a tired girl. 

Bucky is sitting on the couch, his back slouched as he leans against the soft cushions, in the living room when Steve gets downstairs. He's looking out the window and watching cars pass, but his attention turns to Steve when he enters the room. 

"You didn't have to do what you did if you didn't want to." 

"I did want to."

"I'm glad. I knew she'd take well to you, I hope it's mutual." 

"Yeah," Bucky sighs, silently thinks for a moment, then closes his mouth, lowing his gaze to his hands. 

"It's not a problem, is it? If it is we can work something out, maybe move into Stark's tower or something where you could have more spa-"

"No, it's fine, it really is. Besides, I think I'm getting more space here than I would anywhere else. Especially Stark's," he slowly brings his eyes up to Steve's, "but I think you know that. That's why you brought her here." 

Steve purses his lips, crosses his arms, and this time it's him who breaks eye contact to look out the window. He's quiet, his head falls forward, and he steps over to take a seat on the couch beside Bucky, who's tracing his movements. 

"Yeah, I guess so," Steve finally says with a crooked smirk and he turns his head towards Bucky, his unfocused gaze set at a downwards angle. His back is still straight, his chin is once again raised, but his eyes betray the posture his body has set out to display. "I guess that's the story you want to hear, huh?" 

"It's not necessary, if you don't want to- maybe it'd be better to get it from Kate, if at all." 

"No, it's nothing most of New York doesn't know, hell half the country probably knows. She just assumes everyone knows now." 

"Well, I think I can say I know the feeling. Fuck, I know less about myself than most people know about me. But, still, if you don't want to tell me, I understand. I mean, I guess that's why I didn't exactly tell her, you know, all of it." 

"It's up to you to decide if and when you want to tell her, or if you want one of us to tell her, about that. But I think it's important you know about us. It'll help you understand this, and her, at lot more. Hopefully make you feel more comfortable to tell her, us, things too." 

Bucky nods and glances down, suddenly noticing that Steve's sitting so close to him that his leg is touching the inanimate limb that is partially resting on the couch. He looks up, meeting Steve's eyes immediately but he seems oblivious, so Bucky swallows and forces his heart back into place. He furrows his brow hoping to conceal any emotion that doesn't reflect the serious tone of the moment and prepares to listen, though he cannot help that he subconsciously jumps from Steve's eyes to his lips periodically. 

"I won't bore you with irrelevant details, so I'll skip how we got into the situation in the first place and just say New York was under fire. Kate's family lived in Staten Island, they should have been out of range, we had it contained between 57th and 51st for the most part, but so should most of the people who had the misfortune of being there that day. They were walking down Broadway from the park when it started. Her, her parents, and her older sister. A blast ended up going off right near them. Her father, a wealthy company owner, was closest to it and died instantly; her sister, who was five, was protected from shrapnel as most of it got her father, but she was thrown to the side with her mother and Kate. Kate's mother had been holding her and had protectively pressed her into her chest before she was tossed across the sidewalk. 

"I got there about two minutes later with Stark and Murdock and it was chaos. We started getting people help and trying to clear them out in case another blast came, but obviously we had to prioritize, which is the worst part of the job that you never really think about until you have to do it. The area, at the time, was clear of actual enemies, so we were focused on retrieval. Ambulances started coming in and getting out as fast as possible when I came across her, her mother, and her sister. The air was still heavy with dust and smoke, and because it was more or less the centre of the blast we assumed the next one, if there was one, wouldn't be in the same place. 

"Her sister was unconscious, lying in her blood. Her mother had dragged herself over to her elder daughter to lay beside her instead of touching her and risking hurting her more. Her mother's legs had fallen onto the glass of broken car windows and had bent in the worst directions when she'd landed. The backs of her arms were covered in wounds, but Kate in her arms stayed more or less unscathed. Just as I started making my way towards her another blast went off behind us. This time the radius didn't reach that far, but it was enough to send tires and car parts bouncing down the street, and the ambulances that had avoided it started to zoom off and would probably be unable to get back with the mess of the road. 

"Her mother was screaming at me not to leave yet, to take her baby, to get her daughters out. She knew she would be safe from any other blasts and that the only ambulances now available for the next while would be the couple that had yet to leave and she asked they take her eldest first. She said that if she would live they'd find her here later, but her daughters couldn't wait. I flagged down a medic who hastily added the sister to her ambulance which already had another patient in it, but before I could get Kate from her mother the medic had run off and hit the gas. 

"In hindsight it was best, remember what I said earlier about prioritizing, because not long after another blast went off, this time from our south, which effectively blocked off the area by roads. I started to run towards the new point of explosion, hoping to meet up with Tony and Matt again, but she started screaming not to leave her baby. I was ready to tell her, to my displeasure, the baby appeared to be fine physically, and that she'd just have to wait until the search and rescue teams came out because there was no way I could take every child in danger I encountered on my own, but that's when the enemy began dispatching soldiers to finish what the blasts had started. 

"At that point it was no longer a matter of if they were able to wait out their injuries, but that those who remained would likely be killed at point blank, so I took Kate up in my arms for the first time, crying and screaming and reaching for her mother, pressed her tiny body between my chest and my shield, and called in the com for backup to the area. 

"Fighting was obviously more difficult when I only had one hand and I was holding the baby girl in the arm that I also held the shield with. Stark thought I was hurt when he found me and he air lifted me up and out of the fight and to the tower. When I got there I figured I'd take advantage of the opportunity and I passed her off to Clint, who at the time was sidelined with multiple injuries, before heading back out without another word." 

"So I'm guessing her family didn't make it," Bucky chimes in after Steve finally takes a breath and a second to wipe his eyes in silence.

"Her mother was found dead of her wounds a couple days later, which I assume was better than starving or dehydration. And her sister, her sister was in the hospital on life support with severe brain damage for about a week before it was decided she was brain dead. I took Kate to visit her and to say goodbye before the plug was pulled." 

"And there are no other living relatives?" 

"Her mother's parents are still alive, and they were written in the will as guardians, but neither thought themselves fit for the job because of their handicaps, health problems, and age."

"How did you end up with her?"

"She spent the few days of the battle in Stark's place, obviously there were doctors to take care of her in there. The only injury she had was a concussion, which they monitored but it never caused an immediately dangerous problem, though they think it's had some effect on her speech. Only time will tell if it's just an awkward stage of speech development or if there are issues. But after that time, and after her mother and sister, I felt a responsibility for her. 

"When we read the wills and legal documents I went to take her to her grandparents, thinking that would be how to fix it, but when they said they didn't think they could take care of her themselves and she'd end up more with nurses and maids than anything, I asked them how they'd feel if I kept her."

"And how did that go over at first? Captain America wanting to adopt your granddaughter probably doesn't cross anybody's mind ever."

"They were shocked. Didn't really believe it. They're boomers, had grown up hearing all sorts of stories. Asked why I would ever even think about it, and I told them honestly that I had grown connected to her. I told them she could keep her last name, they could come and see her or have her come over whenever they wanted, and that they could help decide things like where she'd go to school. They said as long as they could see her they'd be happy, so they put in to have her parental rights switched. 

"It went over fairly quickly, we gave them half of the inheritance that was supposed to be split between Kate and her sister and decided the rest would go to her when she turned 18. It was mostly smooth sailing."

"Mostly?" 

"The media had a field day. On both sides. Some said it was a publicity stunt, some said it was an abuse of power taking her away from her grandparents who couldn't say no to Captain America, some said I'd just put her in more danger, while others said it was heartwarming. Tons wanted interviews, but I refused them all to help protect her, but they obviously found her name and her parents' information. A lot of them made up their own events, and since I didn't give interviews none knows what is right or wrong for sure. 

"Stark's was too much of a centre of attention, Kate didn't like it, though she really does like everyone it was overwhelming for her and I wanted her to have as normal of a life as possible given these circumstances." 

"It seems to be working, she's a happy little girl despite it all." 

"She's a real fighter. Sometimes she has bad days, and she's prone to night terrors and panic attacks, but she's doing so well, and I make sure to take her to see doctors to make sure she deals with her feelings in healthy ways. She's often able to display the same understand for other people and she's good at reading people and reacting in ways she thinks will help, but she's still got her child's innocence to help with that."

Bucky thinks back on the day, on how she had been so gentle with her toys, how she'd laughed and smiled so easily, and finally how she'd be so careful with him. He wants to smile, but the action is interrupted by a thought, a thought that if she knew what he had done she'd relate him to the people who took her family away from her instead of herself. If she had the full truth she'd instead see a monster and not a victim. Sure he hadn't pulled the trigger on her or her family, but he had definitely pulled triggers, and while Steve could live with that, he isn't sure Kate would. 

He feels a strange fuzziness in his mind, an uncertainty. Steve had spared the details and that just gave his imagination an artistic license. He can hear screams, sirens, begging, he can smell smoke and dust and ash and he knows what comes next as he feels the tug of familiarity at the back of his neck, and what follows, though uncertain to him, leaves a distinct feeling of remembrance in his mind. 

"Buck, are you okay? You look a bit pale." 

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I just, I really didn't expect that, I guess. I think it'd be best if I go to bed." 

"Oh, yeah, of course. Good idea." 

Steve accompanies Bucky up the stairs and to his room, wishes him a goodnight, and heads to his own room. Bucky closes the door and leans against it, closing his eyes and sighing. He knows it can't be him, he knows he couldn't have been part of what took Kate's family away from her. Steve had said it had been a battle, there had been soldiers, chaos. A hidden HYDRA wouldn't play that way and they had lost the winter soldier by this point. But if he hadn't... if he hadn't he'd have been punished for being so sloppy and unorganized. 

At that thought it all pieces together. He remembers pulling that trigger and he remembers the follow up of the ensuing punishment. He knows now exactly what came next. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth and he knows he doesn't deserve to be here, especially not with Kate. But he is selfish, and he is scared, so he also knows he won't go anywhere while he is welcome. He will leech onto their lives as long as he is able, he will blend in until he no longer can, he will grow and spread like bacteria in a wound until he takes over and the only cure will to be to sever him completely like a gangrenous limb. 

He lies down, but he is restless, his mind reels. He remains atop the blankets because he is drenched in sweat even without them, and he cannot decide if it is a dream or reality when he sees the little girl in his sights over and over again.


	7. Chapter 7: City Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assimilation back into society is a feat Bucky Barnes now realizes he must struggle with.

The next few days are rather uneventful. Both Kate and Bucky have significantly limited their questions for each other, but Kate still pushes on the walls of comfort zones from time to time in other ways. 

She is sitting between Bucky and Steve, watching one of her favourite TV shows, on the couch. They'd gotten dressed today, Kate's in a light purple dress with her black, straight hair pulled into pig tails, Steve's wearing blue jeans and a red, plaid button up shirt, and Bucky is wearing similar blue jeans and a white top with just a couple buttons at the bottom of the neckline that are, and remain, undone. He'd once again pushed the sleeves up and Kate finds herself sitting right next to the exposed metal in which she could practically see her own reflection.

Figuring he wouldn't notice, she gently ran her finger along one of the edges of a silver plate. It is smooth, cool to her touch, and she's intrigued further as the plates all seem to be flat and even, despite the fact that she'd watched them seemingly expand and shrink before. It's then her attention gets caught on his shoulder. Through the pale white material that stretches over his body she can see a faint red. She straightens her back as tall as she can to get a better look and is able to make out a little red star, and the fact that the metal continued past that. She's still uncertain as to where the metal ends and his skin begins. 

By this time Bucky is fully aware that Kate's eyes are examining him. He becomes aware of his breathing, which then slows and becomes uneven and uncomfortable as he looks down at the little girl whose face is lost in thought again, and in her thought she is unaware of his returned attention. When, this time, he sees her fingers extend to brush against the metal he jumps and retracts his arm as if he could feel a shock burst from her fingertips and up to his heart. As if he could feel at all. She is startled by his sudden movement and shrieks a shrill "sorry!", retracting her hand to press against her chest. 

"It's- it's alright, Katie, it's okay."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't touch again! I promise! I promise!" 

Steve pulls Kate into his arms and begins gently rubbing her back. This is the most distraught Bucky has seen Kate yet, but her eyes, brimmed with tears, are not the eyes that he's seen in his nightmares, terror filled and pleading. They're not set and focused they are jumping around between his eyes, mouth, and hands. Her hands loosen their grip on each other and fall away from her chest. She's not scared, at least not of him.

"You don't like, I'll stop. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," then the anxiousness in her voice spikes once again, "do you still my friend?" 

Bucky stares at her, blankly. He cannot understand her question, or her need to ask it. His silence only drains more colour from her cheeks as she awaits a reply. Bucky's eyes widen, he looks at the panic stricken child and answers her in a soft, curious voice. 

"Yes, Katie, I still want to be your friend." 

She smiles and the rose flush pours back into her cheeks, her dull eyes fill with light extracted from the glimmering tears that suddenly disappear, and Bucky's even more confused by her behaviour. 

"Thank you! I won't, I won't again! I won't!"

Momentarily he considers extending his arm for her to touch, but it weighs down heavily like an anchor, the fingers twitch and he is reminded of the damage it can do, that it does not need him to do it, and the last thing he wants is to lose control of it anywhere near Kate. A mug can be replaced, Steve can handle pain, but the smallest bit of extra pressure from one finger could ruin Kate. Instead, Bucky simply smiles and gives a nod of his head because he will not allow his blood-stained hands to smear crimson across her skin, she's got just enough red in her cheeks as she needs without his help. 

Not long after Steve stands up, still with Kate in his arms, and she begins to clap her hands together loudly. 

"Is it time, Papa? Is it, is it, is it? It's Tuesday, right?" 

"Yes, Katie, it's time," Steve smiles and places her down on her feet that don't make a sound, "go get ready I'll be right there, okay?"

Kate doesn't wait for him to finish his sentence before she's running out and down the hall, her long, dark pigtails bouncing after her. Bucky quickly looks up at Steve. 

"Every week on Tuesday I take her to Stark's to see everyone. She loves it. Mostly because she loves messing with Tony and playing with Clint and everyone else. She's even got a thing going with JARVIS that no one, especially Tony, really understands. If you want to come, you're welcome, if not that's okay too, but I think she'd really like it if you came." 

"Oh, uh, I don't know. I'm- I'm sure she'd like it, but I don't know if anyone else would want me there." 

"Of course they would. They all want to meet you and get to know you better, you're my best friend. You're very welcome, you don't need to worry about that, but if you don't feel like it you can just tell me - I won't mind." 

Bucky starts to answer when Kate pokes her head in, wearing a sweater, Velcro shoes, and a little backpack. 

"Come on, Papa, let's go, I want to go," she says, running in and grabbing Steve's hand. Then she stops and looks up at Bucky, "are you coming? Please come! It's fun!" 

"Yeah, okay, I'm coming, Katie." 

Steve buckles Kate into her car seat in the back that Bucky had not noticed when they had driven from Stark's to home about a week ago. He tightens the straps and tells Kate to keep her legs still for a minute while she excitedly asks him any and every question that pops into her head. When he finishes getting her secured into her seat Steve kisses her forehead and rubs her head before getting into the driver's seat. Bucky watches it all from the rear view mirror. 

It doesn't take long for them to pull up outside of the large tower in the centre of the downtown area. They are met by a Stark employee who takes the car to be parked and Bucky finds himself once again looking up at the large, light building that reflects the buildings surrounding it in its large and plentiful windows. 

"Welcome back Captain Rogers, Master Bucky, and Princess Katie," the AI greets them the moment they are in the elevator and, therefore, separated from the public. The building still puts Bucky on edge, the familiar lights and all the technologies that seemed outdated to him, but it obviously did not have the same effect on Kate.

"Hello, Mr. JARVIS! I missed you!" 

"I am pleased that you have returned, as always." 

When the doors of the elevator open the florescent lights flood Bucky's vision for a moment and he's forced to rely on the sounds of Steve's steps and Kate's excited squealing to know where to move before his vision comes back into focus. The room is full. On the large couch sits Natasha, Clint, Sam, James Rhodes, Stark, and Pepper Potts. Sitting in their own chairs or lingering about the room are Matt Murdock, Bruce Banner, Carol Danvers, Jessica Drew, Daniel Rand, and Luke Cage. He knew them all, but the knowledge he possesses on them is varied, and he isn't sure why or how he knows some of them because he cannot recall ever seeing their faces in his life. All their private conversations suddenly stop and their attentions turn to Bucky. 

"Hi! What's happen? Why quiet? Oh, you have meet me and Papa's friend Bucky! Say hi, Bucky!" Kate says as she runs back over to Bucky and lightly tugs on his shirt. 

"Hi," Bucky says quietly, giving an awkward wave of the right hand at the wrist. He knows he came here in hopes of building normalcy, but now he's wondering how he's going to fit himself into these situations. 

They all wave, some mumble a hello, then they turn back to each other. Kate stays planted at Steve and Bucky's feet. Sam gets up and walks over to them, kneeling down to catch Kate in his arms when she runs out to meet him, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Uncle Sam, have you met Bucky?" 

"Uncle Sam, did you plan this or was it a happy accident?" Bucky whispers to Steve not being able to help smiling. 

"Yeah, I made sure to know a Sam just for this," Steve says back with a smirk as Sam tells Kate that he has met her friend, though very briefly.

"Where's Uncle Thor today?"

"You know, Katie, I don't quite know. I guess Asgard is keeping him busy."

Bucky and Steve follow Sam to sit on the end of the couch with Kate sitting on Sam's lap. Steve easily jumps in and out of conversations and is called a few times by people on other ends of the room. Kate, who usually has an infinite amount of questions in her head, is soaking in information like a sponge about both the mundane and the extraordinary aspects of the lives of the people around her. Bucky, on the other hand, only speaks when he is addressed by name, and most often these inquiries come from Natasha. 

"Katie seems to like you, James, you're awfully lucky." 

"I- it's Bucky. Am I? I figured she had a warm reception for everyone."

"Well, Bucky, she's not a shy girl, she takes after her Papa in that, but there's certain personality types or something she's drawn to. She got along with me just fine, and Clint and Bruce she really likes, but Thor she took a while to warm up to, and she's still a bit weird around Danny, Rhodey, Stark, and Pepper. She loves them all to death, but she has her different ways of communicating with different people, and I don't think I've ever seen her openly introduce someone she's known for a week to other people. You're right to smile," Natasha grins, leans forwards and takes her coffee off the table, stirring it with the small silver spoon. She does not appear to look at him but she adds, "don't be embarrassed, I'd smile too, she's got a way of doing that to people and you're not any more immune than we are." 

Bucky is both impressed and unsettled by her ability to make such accurate comments on his behaviours without being used to his mannerisms or even having to visually assess them for herself. She is much more fine-tuned than he is, and he supposes much more in control as well. She holds her spoon in place with her thumb while she brings the lip of the mug to her mouth and takes a rather large sip. Silence shrouds them as the room continues to buzz, Bucky takes to observation. 

Kate's telling Sam and Bruce an animated story about a dream of hers, she's gesticulating wildly, climbing up and over the two of them and the furniture, and supplying loud character voices with faces. Steve's gotten up and is leaning against the bar, his feet crossed, his broad shoulders relaxed, as he talks to Jessica, Luke, and Matt.

Both Kate and Steve remain the objects of Bucky's undivided attention. He is aware of the noise of the room and he can fully see that both Kate and Steve's lips are producing words as they shape out sounds that together string into words, but Bucky does not hear them. In his focus words are not the emphasis, and his brain, fully occupied with sights, registers no sounds whatsoever. He can practically see their bodies' next moves, he steadies his hands and breathing, his eyes position themselves in the spot he knows the back of Steve's head will soon appear and is ready to rapidly move to Kate's predicted position immediately after. When Steve does move to the left Bucky blinks, hard, but the odd silence stuns him. He does not move, eyes shut. Sound rushes back at once, overwhelmingly, but not the brilliant, loud ring he is used to in the situation. It's deafening in a different way. He put his head in his hands and takes a staggered breath. 

"Hey, hey, lightning rod, will you," Tony's standing in front of Bucky but all he sees is the lit up screen outstretched towards him. The confident smile, the raised brow, the lowered chin, Bucky does not look up to see them but instead grabs the device and furiously starts pressing buttons. 

"Tony, what are you doing?" 

"Calm down, Capsicle, I just wanted to see how inept he'd- wait a second what is he- hey stop that!" Tony tries to grab the tablet from Bucky, but his head stays down, his fingers continue to type furiously. Kate looks over from in front of Sam and is picked up and held closer to him. Everyone falls silent. 

"Sir, there's a security breach in progress."

"Hey, Barnes, cut it out you soviet-" 

"Я пытаюсь," Bucky says firmly, urgency spiking. His right hand is shaking and struggling to keep up with his left, his face expressionless. 

"Buck, Buck listen to me, stop it. This isn't you Buck, you don't have to be doing this," Steve says calmly as possible, kneeling down in front of him after forcibly pushing Tony and a few others who had approached Bucky back. "We didn't ask you to do this, you can stop." 

"Я пытаюсь!"

"Мы знаем, но мы не должны eго, ты можешь остановить," Natasha says from her seat and Bucky's fingers come to a complete halt. He remains staring at the screen, his fingers hovering over it ready to commence at a word. "Дайте его мне."

Bucky hands her the tablet and she quickly passes it off to Stark who wastes no time to start reversing what Bucky had begun. Steve frowns, his hand resting on Bucky's knee. 

"How do we get him out of it," he whispers without turning around or looking away. 

"I don't know, Steve, try talking to him now." 

"Buck, hey, it's me, do you know me?"

Bucky's eyes meet Steve's and he can tell they are searching for recognition, but none comes and he doesn't say a word. Steve turns to Sam and puts a hand out. 

"Oh no, you're not, no-"

"Sam, please."

"Did you see what I just saw because I really don't think-"

"Sam."

Sam's arms around Kate's waist let go and she's grabbing her Papa's hand the moment her little arm allows her hand to come within reach. 

"Bucky, come on, let's go home. Look at us, we're going to take you home, okay? You know us, we'll make you dinner and you can rest." 

"Steve?" Bucky is now blinking back tears that appear in his eyes. He knows the faces staring up at him, the name Steve rolls off his tongue as easily as the keystrokes had fallen under his fingers, without thought or reason but heavy with urgency. The other face, the rose cheeks, the nose splashed with light freckles, the now uneven pony tails, he knows it but his tongue does not react in the same way. He can picture her sitting in his lap, he can feel the memory her small hands on his face, and he can smell her damp, fragrant hair after she'd taken a bath, but these memories do not make way for a name. He remembers holding her in his arms at a zoo, showing her a giraffe. He remembers her crawling into bed between him and "Steve" after she'd had a nightmare, he remembers her falling asleep on him during a movie when she'd asked to stay up late. He remembers kissing her forehead after buckling her into a car seat. His and Steve's, "Princess?"


	8. You Are The-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following his lapse into dangerous territory, Bucky still struggles to stop reeling and to once again get a hold on himself and reality.

The unusual trio are silent as they leave Stark’s and head home. Bucky has his focus stuck on the rear view mirror, and his mind is just as static. ‘Princess’ is laying back in her car seat, the reflections of buildings and passing cars flash across her eyes. Princess. He knows it’s not right, but it’s the only name to come to mind, a road block to his destination. Her hands clench into tiny fits in her lap, there’s a light click of metal and a weight on Bucky’s leg that threatens the one that restricts his breathing. 

“Katie,” he finally says aloud as they pull back up to the house, watching his own mouth form the sound in the mirror all on its own. Yes, that’s right, he knows the flick of the tongue, the extra restriction of his breath, but an unusual tension claws up his spine and he turns to look at her. She’s smiling, but her pupils are dilated, she’s sitting up straight, her white knuckles are regaining colour. She giggles and her muscles relax.

“Yeah?” she says, but Bucky doesn’t answer, the moment the car stops he raises, opens the back door, leans over to unbuckle her, and even picks her up.

“We’re home,” he whispers to her, closing the door with his left hand then continuing to carry her up to the door. Kate and Steve are both looking at him with open mouths, void of any words. Despite their age difference neither of them has a word in their vocabulary they feel they should use at this moment. 

Kate wiggles around while Bucky waits for Steve to unlock the door, she tucks her arms under herself and finds a place for her head under his chin, which she once again finds to be much rougher than her papa’s. Her papa comes up the front steps and smiles at her. There’s a click of metal, Bucky’s arm hasn’t moved from his side, the door swings open. Thump, thump, the blood rushes under his skin, his warmth touches her the same as her papa’s, as aunt Natasha’s or as uncle Clint’s, but is he them, or is he Iron Man? 

“Do you want me to take her, Buck?”

“No, it’s okay, I’ve got her.”

Thump, thump, he sits down on the couch, placing her on his knee, holding her around the waist to keep her from falling. 

“I want to talk about what happened at Stark’s today.”

“Something happened at Stark’s today?” 

Steve takes a seat beside him, lids heavy over the comforting blue Bucky remembers and in their absence – thump, thump, thump – the smaller waves of blue sweep over him, but these ones framed by darkness. 

“Bucky?” they speak, and he knows that’s him; Bucky, her-

“Why are you calling me that? You don’t call Papa ‘Steve’.”

Thump, thump, thump, this time it’s echoing in his head, spinning around in his consciousness. The pictures alter in his mind. Her hands had been comparing him to her father. The giraffe was stuffed and shared over “tea”. Steve had mentioned her night terrors, but he was never witness, nor a solution, to them. She’d become tired watching TV and movies on the couch, Steve had put her to bed. Steve’s lips had sealed her promise of safety after being buckled into her car seat. Kate, Katie, Steve’s Princess. 

“What do you want me to call you?” 

“Bucky is fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short chapter. If it's impossible to follow, let me know. I wanted to create some confusion for effect, but I don't want it to be incomprehensible.


	9. Chapter 9: 3 Sizes Too Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets some real one-on-one time with Katie.

Kate let the conversation fall, but she spent the rest of the night using his name just as he’d asked; “Bucky, do you want?”, “Bucky, look”, “Papa’s favourite, Bucky”. Each time she used it he felt like he’d made a mistake. In a similar fashion, Steve decided not to bother him tonight, especially seeing how he was responding to Kate now, hoping he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed. They could have their conversation the next day, it could wait. 

As it turned out, it would have to wait longer. 

“What’s happen, Papa?” Kate asks with a frown, sitting at the bottom of the stairs, watching Steve run back and forth out of sight as Bucky makes his way down the stairs in the morning. 

“There you are,” Steve says to Bucky without answering Kate’s question. “I’ve been called in, it’s an emergency. Can you stay here with Katie? I don’t have the time to take her to the tower, besides it’s just as safe here, I’ve made sure of that.”

Bucky froze, looking down to Kate whose crystal blue eyes were staring up at him now. 

“Just me and Bucky?” Kate asks with a smile, crawling up the stairs to where Bucky had stopped midway down. “Fun, and safe” Kate continued as she wrapped herself around his calf, hugging his leg tightly and pressing her face against it. 

“I can call someone from the IR in if you’re not up to it, you’ll just have to hold off like half an hour, if you want” Steve says lightly to Bucky as he picks up his shield. 

He wants to accept this offer, he wants help, he doesn’t want to be alone with her, but he knows he won’t fix anything if he doesn’t try to fit in with Steve’s normal life. He wants Steve to trust him more than he feels he can even trust himself, but not quite as much as it seems Kate already trusts him, her arms tightening their grip around his leg. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll be okay. I can handle it,” Bucky says, though he still hadn’t moved an inch since Kate had latched onto him. 

“Alright, well, Kate knows how most stuff works, I’ve a book with specifics in the top drawer on the far left of the kitchen that I made for Clint when he started watching her. If anything else comes up, JARVIS is online during emergency situations, he’ll help on his own and direct you to me if necessary,” Steve speaks quickly as he moves around, finally going over to Kate and kissing her head, “You be your usual good self, I’ll be home soon. Love you, nugget”

“Love you, papa. Home soon.” 

Steve pauses a moment and his eyes meet Bucky’s. He’s unsure how long they stay still before they both break their eyes away, Steve turning for the door and Bucky looking down to Kate, rubbing the back of his neck, “See you later,” 

“As soon as possible. Lock the door behind me,” Steve says and the door creaks closed with a click. Bucky means to move for the door, but when he tries to lift his leg, he remembers the little girl clinging to him. 

She’s looking up at him and it strikes him with panic. Her eyes are wide, brimmed with tears, as her fingers tighten their grip on his pant leg. He hears a scream echo, swirl, grow louder; he squeezes his eyes shut, there’s a bang followed by silence. He looks down and Kate hasn’t moved, his head’s spinning but he knows he has to take care of her. 

“What’s wrong, Katie?” he asks, sitting down on the step behind him, letting her stay on hers. She presses her face into his leg and rubs her face on the rough jean material. 

“I don’t like papa go” she whispers, her voice shaking as she takes short, shallow breaths. He knows the pattern all too well. Gently, he leans over and pulls her up into his lap, letting her sit on his left arm where it can’t hurt her, his right hand on her back to steady her and gets to his feet. Her eyelashes are glistening, she presses a tight fist against her eye and rubs, looking up at him with the other. 

“I don’t either,” he eventually answers, strolling over to the door and locking it as he’d been asked to. He carries her over to the couch and sits down, setting her on his knee. Kate watched his face, waiting for him to finish his thought, putting her head down onto his chest. “A long time ago, before your papa was big and strong, he’d get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Why trouble?” Kate’s smile widens, keeping her head down.

“Because your papa’s heart was too big for his body.” 

“Hearts are supposed to be big, papa said”

“Yes, you’re right, but-“ he stops. This is Steve’s daughter, “no, you’re right. There’s no such thing as too big.”

“Tell me, little papa.”

“If he was late to anything, school, lunch, a baseball game, I’d get so worried about that little – about your papa,” he starts seamlessly, smiling back to her. “He’d been late or not shown up so many times because he got into a fight with someone at least twice his size so much, that if he wasn’t on time I’d have to go looking for him. And it’s a good thing I did, because more than once he got into something he couldn’t handle and I had to drag him out of it kicking and screaming so I could fix him up.”

Bucky pauses. Something that seemed so foggy was now so clear. Specific details; dates, people, problems, places; he can’t be sure if they are true or not, but they’re clear as day. 

“Is your heart big?”

The smile fades, he doesn’t answer. 

“It sounds like it is.”


	10. Lazy Day

Kate’s quiet, quiet for longer than Bucky’s ever seen her in his short time here. She’s quiet, but she’s not drowsy. She listens to the stories he could remember, though sometimes parts would slip away from him halfway through a sentence or story, but she absorbs it all. He’s long since run out of memories, they’re both quiet and still, her cheek pressed against his chest.

“Do you want to watch TV?” he eventually asks through the silence that consumes the sentence immediately. She shakes her head, shifting her body in his lap, trying to turn, to tuck her arms between them, all the while keeping her head against his chest. He watches her curiously and asks if she’s hungry at all when he hears her stomach give a small grumble. She shifts off of his lap and rolls onto her stomach on the couch, watching him get up. Her legs swing back and forth, toes tapping gently against the cushions as she brings them down and then pulls her foot back into the air. 

She gives only a shrug when he asks what she’d like to eat, so he’s left to improvise. He’s no idea what to make, how to make it, where the things he’d need are. He finds the book Steve told him about and flips through until he finds the page where Steve had neatly listed some of her favourite foods, and some of her least. Book in hand, open to this page with his thumb pressed between the covers, he starts digging through the drawers, the fridge, the freezer. 

Chicken nuggets, second on her list only after pizza, that’ll do. 

He stays in the kitchen as the oven hum can be heard along with the sound of his blood pumping through his head. Solid, statue-like, he watches the glow of the elements emanating through the foggy window. Unaware of time he starts when the single ding tells him it’s been 30 minutes. He pulls the tray out with his left hand, slides the nuggets onto the monkey plate he knows she likes so much, and looks down to the book again. 

“Honey mustard” is scribbled in Steve’s hand in the margin. 

For himself he makes a simple sandwich and grabs an apple from the fridge. He brings the food back to the living room and sits down beside Kate, who is still stretched across a couple of the cushions on her stomach. She pushes herself up and rubs hair from her face with her palm, static filled and defying her attempts to smooth it. She sits up lazily and puts her hands out for her plate, stretching her legs out straight and balancing the plate on them, but she doesn’t touch her food yet. She waits, watching Bucky sit back on the couch, and she slides over, leaning her head onto his arm and getting comfortable again. Now she picks up her first nugget and dips it in the sauce. With her leaning on his right arm he becomes conscious of his movements, and as to not disturb her he eats only with his left hand, making sure not to move in the slightest. 

He finishes before her, turning his head and looking down to her, watching her eat slowly. Her hair is hanging in her face as she concentrates on ripping another piece off to dip in her sauce and then gently place in her mouth. Her movements are so slow, she’s so quiet, she’s so incredibly soft in every aspect and it resonates strongly with him. He glances to her knuckles that, to his momentary surprise, are not bloody, bruised, or bandaged. It fills him with pride. He looks back to her downcast head and he’s again surprised, this time by the darkness and length of her hair. 

He’s startled when she leans forward, abruptly, placing her empty plate on the table and then crawling up into his lap. She’s turning and twisting again, he gets a glimpse of her furrowed brow as she tries to find a way to curl up on him. He takes a deep breath and this time he catches her off guard as he shifts himself down the length of the couch and lays back, resting his head on the arm and putting his feet up. Kate doesn’t miss a beat, laying down on his torso, resting her chin on her hands folded over each other on his sternum. The corner of her lip curls upward, her blue eyes lower and disappear under their curtains, her head turns and she lowers it parallel to him. She wiggles around until her legs are sprawled out in the most natural way she can get them and she becomes still, the only movement he sees is her raising and falling in accordance with his own breaths which he’s certain to control.

Kate remains reserved and only moves or speaks on occasion to get a drink or to ask him to bring her to the potty, but always returns to lay back down in the same position. These past few weeks she’s never stopped being gentle, affording Bucky with similar signs of affection as she gives Sam, Natasha, or even Steve, though she is sure to adjust to make sure she doesn’t cause him any discomfort or anxieties. She’d even returned one day from a doctor’s appointment and handed him a drawing she’d made just for him, and he vaguely remembers, thinking back to that picture now kept safely in his room, pages torn out of notebooks, grey smudges on small hands, the sound of small scratches, a furrowed, light brow. 

“Why smile?” Kate’s small voice pulls him out of his memories and he realizes both that she’s watching him with a grin, and that he’s got one too – but all those fragments of memories have disappeared. His smile falls, he knits his brow together and tries to get a grasp on them. A moment ago, he remembers, feeling light, feeling happy, he remembers remembering, but he can’t remember what. 

“Well, why do you smile?”

“Happy.”

“Then I guess I must be happy.”

Kate sits up on his chest and turns to the window, sighing and sliding off of him and the couch and making her way over to it. She pulls the curtain back and the light and clearness of day shines through the haze of their dim den. 

“Where’s he? Papa?” her head turns with the passing of cars, her back straight and her hands planted on the window’s edge. 

“Off being a hero, Katie,” he says slowly, remaining on his back, turning from her and staring up at the ceiling before resting is forearm over his eyes. She turns around and sees him lying motionless on the couch, her chest tightens and she thinks a moment. 

“Late. Go get,” she says as she wobbles over to him and grabs his arm in both her hands, trying to pull it off his face. He doesn’t understand but lets his arm fall to his side and gives her his attention. 

“What do you mean?”

“You said when late, you get. You get him. Because big heart is trouble.”

Bucky swings his legs off to the side and sits up, takes a deep breath and swallows. Leaning forward and looking at Kate and her innocent eyes he presses his lips together and slides to the edge of his seat, taking one of her hands in his right, stroking her tiny hand with his thumb to calm her. 

“That was a long time ago, Kate. Papa was small then, he can take care of himself now, he doesn’t need me to help him. He’s got other friends for extra help, anyway.”

“Still worry”

“I know you do.”

“No,” she says in a normal voice that seems deafening compared to the day of her whispers, shaking her head and pulling her hand away, “you. You worry.”

She blinks a few times and smiles, leaving him speechless as she turns her back to him. 

“I’m hungry, I want dinner.”

Before she can wander away from him, Bucky gets to his feet and quickly scoops her up, causing her to break out in a bout of giggles. He rests her on his hip and carries her to the kitchen, letting her help pick and cook dinner. They’re back to being quiet throughout dinner, and afterwards Kate asks if they can watch a movie. Bucky gets back on the couch with her, letting her get back into her position sprawled out on his chest. With the TV on low volume Bucky watches Nemo, just as Kate asks. Even after she falls asleep within the first half hour, he continues to watch it with more investment than he originally planned on.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry it's really repetitive, I haven't written anything but essays in forever but I've really wanted to write this story for a long time


End file.
